A woman in a red coat sat down across from us and opened a bag of crackers, and the crinkle filled the room.

Ethan shifted the car seat away from her, just an inch, and put his body between the baby and the noise.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said.

“Do what?”

“Treat her like she’s already yours.”

He looked at me then, and for the first time that morning he looked nineteen.

“She doesn’t have anybody else.”

That was true.